


an intimate discussion on the state of hotel beds.

by pinkgrapefruit



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Pining, friends with benefits except they've forgotten what the benefits were supposed to be, guilty pining, kind of, the barest bones of smut you ever did see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23293768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgrapefruit/pseuds/pinkgrapefruit
Summary: Vanessa mumbles something under her breath and Brooke tries not to listen because they’re not together. She’ll leave in a minute, it’s not her hotel room anyway, she has places to be, she tells herself, as she watches the orange blinking light of the clock on the TV flick from 5:42 to 5:43.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 20
Kudos: 23





	an intimate discussion on the state of hotel beds.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! someone on tumblr asked for 'Maybe a branjie au where v and b are best friends and start sleeping together but are scared to get feelings?' and i was all too happy to oblige. thanks to silverhytes and frey for your inputs and let me know what you all think! love you guys! <3

The sheets are made of silk. They wrap around her milky shins like a serpent around its prey, smooth against the stubble of her leg hair. The air is perfumed to mask the early morning sex and the smell of late-night room service - Brooke has to occupy it for another two days and she’s not keen on the idea that the housekeepers might think her unkempt.

Vanessa’s chin is uncomfortable on her collarbone, the dip more pronounced after a week of long nights and early mornings trying to clear up this business proposal into something workable. The shorter woman stretches, mewls like a kitten exposed to cold air for the first time. She stands and walks to the minifridge, and Brooke is captivated by the way the bed creaks at the shift in weight and how her short caramel legs stretch indefinitely under Brooke’s work shirt. 

She hears the click of a bottle being removed from the fridge, the twist of the cap being removed, and the gentle rattle of blinds being pulled up, watches as Vanessa’s whole body is illuminated in the early morning sun and sighs. 

*

Springs have been digging into her back all night, but suddenly, as she tries to feel for them with her hands, she can’t find it anymore. She’s got no covers left, but she wouldn’t want them anyway - the heavy comforter clad in barely soft cotton, that she’s pretty sure she would have an allergic reaction to if she’d been covered for more than 15 minutes. Vanessa mumbles something under her breath and Brooke tries not to listen because they’re not together. She’ll leave in a minute, it’s not her hotel room anyway, she has places to be, she tells herself, as she watches the orange blinking light of the clock on the TV flick from 5:42 to 5:43. 

Vanessa’s hair tickles her nostrils as she turns her head to face the sleeping girl - it’s long enough that it’s splayed across both pillows in the small double bed. Next time Brooke will business expense this to get them a better room than a Holiday Inn Express.

*

They didn’t plan this; a friends wedding, wooden bedframe, rustic lamps, organic sheets, fairy lights. It’s a little too much for friends who like to fuck, but Brooke’s heel is pressed into the frame and Vanessa’s hands are twisted in her hair, and suddenly it doesn’t really matter if it was planned or not.

Beyond the walls of the room are romantic couples kissing and swooning on dance floors, but they’re too jaded for that - spending evenings held up in hotel rooms drinking in kisses and red wine till they forget their troubles. They leave before first light, try not to think for a few hours, as the guilt sinks into their skin. Brooke doesn’t know about Vanessa, but she showers twice when she gets home. Once to remove the sweat, a second time to remove the smell of Vanessa that seeps into every pore. It’s intoxicating and it’s forbidden, and it’s the cherry blossom on the first day of May, so fair and pure.

Brooke bites down on Vanessa’s inner thigh and sends thanks to the gods that when they were running for a room to hide in, they found one with a bed. The other girl lets out a low moan of pleasure, and Brooke knows enough to know she won’t be able to cross her legs tomorrow without remembering. She can’t pinpoint when that knowledge stopped making her nauseous.

*

Business conference. Utah. The bed is barely slept in, but the covers are mussed to form a woman’s body. The room smells like sex and honey. The only thing touched in the bathroom is the complimentary toothpaste. The room service bill is $3.75.

*

In Oklahoma, Vanessa eats Brooke out while she finishes her tax returns. The comforter is red, Brooke keeps her blazer on, Vanessa gets off through her tights.

They leave for their meetings and reconvene at night, fervent kisses, heavy moans, and the smell of juniper and ginger. The bed creaks every time Brooke shifts her weight, and they play The View in the background. Brooke manages to turn it into a business expense.

*

They’re not best friends. They were best friends. But they’re not anymore.

Maybe it’s when they started sleeping together. Maybe its when they started  _ sleeping  _ together. When Brooke learned Vanessa was a cover hog and Vanessa learned Brooke likes to be awake at 5 a.m. When they started keeping secrets. From their coworkers, from themselves. 

Brooke lies awake at 3 a.m. with Vanessa’s hand on her thigh. It’s too much contact for Brooke to be able to separate her feelings. They all lie in the no man’s land between hand-holding and finger-fucking, and in all of them she can see Vanessa’s fucking smile. She slams her free leg on the bed in frustration, before lying super still to make sure Vanessa hasn’t been roused.

She isn’t, but she does turn to face Brooke, and the blonde is transfixed with the way the light from the slight opening in the curtains makes her face look ethereal.

She’s beautiful. 

Brooke tugs the covers back off her and tries to sleep.

*

Vanessa’s childhood bedroom has floral sheets. The ugly kind, with the lace along the bottom and sides. The kind that scratches as you slide into it, but is perfectly soft when you’re finally comfortable. It smells like fabric softener and lavender. 

They fuck in it, Vanessa burying her head into a pillow so she doesn’t scream at the way Brooke uses her tongue.

It’s too comfortable to sleep in that bed with Vanessa’s head tucked in her neck, lips ghosting the peony she got tattooed on her collarbone in university. Vanessa was there, she encouraged it - hollered from the sidelines as Brooke squeezed their friend Nina’s hand.

She turns her head, exhales a kiss onto the brunette’s crown. 

*

Vanessa tells her she loves her while clenched around Brooke’s fingers. There’s a damp spot on the white sheets. Their travel bags are upright and packed by the door. Brooke’s reading glasses are still tucked into her hair. She feels wildly unprepared for this situation.

*

Metal frame. Creaking springs. Eucalyptus soap. Red alarm clock. Grey sheets. Unpacked cases. Brooke says she loves her. Vanessa rolls over. Things end as they began. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments will make me write more instead of doing chemistry homework. it's your choice <3


End file.
